


The ghosts they have deposed

by planet_plantagenet



Category: Richard II - Shakespeare
Genre: Aftermath, Gen, Ghosts, Insomnia, at least probably not, don't worry this aumerle isn't stabby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9282938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planet_plantagenet/pseuds/planet_plantagenet
Summary: Bolingbroke, after Richard's death."For God's sake, let us sit upon the groundAnd tell sad stories of the death of kings;How some have been deposed; some slain in war,Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd;All murder'd…"





	

The wind whistled through the trees, and for a second it sounded like a voice to my over-cautious ear. I flinched, then turned away from the window, resumed my pacing through the silent halls. This wasn’t the first time I hadn’t been able to sleep—nor, I supposed, would it be the last. Insomnia was all too common in my experience.

The door creaked, a noise that echoed through the corridor and pricked up the hairs along my spine. Again, I whipped towards the source of the sound—but it was only the Duke of Aumerle (or should I call him Rutland? but even as his title changed, I would always think of him as Aumerle) slowly closing the door.

“My liege,” he said softly.

I didn’t reply, just glanced back towards the window where the wind was howling outside. I wondered how much pain it caused Aumerle to speak those words— _ my liege _ —when everyone knew how he felt about Richard.

“I heard you couldn’t sleep,” Aumerle ventured.

“It’s… no matter.” I tried to wave the thought away. “Insomnia is common for me.”

But again my eye was drawn to the window. Aumerle saw me looking; his brow furrowed slightly. Was there someone out there, standing outside the castle walls in the rain?

“My liege?” came Aumerle’s concerned voice.

“Nothing, nothing….” But the more I repeated it, the clearer it became that there was in fact something out there.

“I think you should try to sleep.” Aumerle’s face was paler than before; he motioned me towards the door. I stayed put, staring out the window. The bright white robe and long, brown hair were unsettlingly familiar to me….

Richard. Recognising the figure on the ground below, I took a sudden step back. And even as I did so, the man seemed to look up and lock eyes with me.

“Aumerle—” I gestured wordlessly towards the window. Tentatively, he walked over and peered out. I saw his face go white.

“There’s… there’s nothing out there, my liege,” Aumerle whispered, but he looked as terrified as I felt.

I snatched a candle off the desk by the window, pulling my cloak a little tighter around myself. “I’m going to see.”

“Are you sure—”

“Just a look.”

I stepped past him, beginning to shuffle down the stairs. It was dark, even with the candle’s steady flickers; I almost tripped on my cloak once or twice. I heard Aumerle’s hesitant footsteps behind me—as worried as he might be, he wasn’t about to abandon his king.

When we reached the bottom of the staircase, the sound of the rain outside, previously muffled by the castle walls, could be heard clearly again. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Aumerle’s face was very pale in the candlelight.

“We’re just going to look,” I assured him again. He didn’t reply.

The castle doors were unlocked. I gently pushed one open, peered into the rainstorm outside. The trees were still swaying in the wind, but I could no longer see anyone standing before them.

“Let’s go back up,” Aumerle pressed, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s no one out there. You’re dreaming.”

“How can I be dreaming when I’m awake?” My eyes searched the trees. There was still no sign of the man from before. “Aumerle? Can you see anything?”

Aumerle opened his mouth, perhaps to urge me again to give up, but was cut off when a bolt of lightning crackled through the sky, illuminating a figure standing in the rain—unmistakably Richard II. My stomach clenched, heart suddenly beating very fast. Aumerle’s eyes widened, and he took an impulsive jump away from the door. Hands shaking, I dropped the candle, and it tumbled down the castle steps, immediately extinguished by the rain.

“Is that—?” Aumerle didn’t need to complete his sentence for his meaning to be clear.

“I don’t know,” I breathed.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” he asserted, but his voice was trembling as violently as my hands.

I wrenched the door closed, jamming the lock back into its place. I didn’t want to think about the apparition outside who seemed so much like the former king. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good idea.”

I started up the stairs—then looked back, locked eyes with Aumerle, whose hand was still on the door’s handle. “Don’t go back out there, Aumerle. For your own sake.”

Aumerle paused for a moment, his eyes flickering to the lock. Finally, he nodded mutely, taking his hand off the door’s handle. I beckoned to him, and he followed me up the dark staircase, perhaps even more reluctant than he’d seemed when we came down.


End file.
